


follow your fire

by badmatch



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Pokemon Journey, Reconciliation, World Travel, aka todoroki shouto, and loves his pokemon more than people, bakugou also cares aggressively, when you follow your crush across the globe pretending you dont have a crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 06:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18067994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badmatch/pseuds/badmatch
Summary: “What are you supposed to be, a Poké Ball?”“Excuse me?” Shouto blinks, for lack of a better response.“Your hair,” the blond trainer informs, looking down on him like Shouto had offended him in some way.He hasn't, not that Shouto can recall—and he gets the sense that this boy is one to leave a memorable impression.(Pokémon Gym Leader Todoroki tags along for Bakugou's Pokémon Journey—and develops a crush along the way)





	follow your fire

**Author's Note:**

> for the boku no pokemon big bang, and with AMAZING ART BY THE LOVELY [TSUNAMIKAII](http://tsunamikaii.tumblr.com/)
> 
> it's lovelier than any words i could write, [please check it out](http://tsunamikaii.tumblr.com/post/183299607903/my-second-submission-for-my-poke-hero-bb-for-the) and give it love

 

In the months since Shouto had taken over as Cinnabar’s Gym Leader, his days had developed a routine.

Wake early, stretch. Run the length of beach into town and eat his breakfast on the seawall—but be back in time to open the Gym at 08:00.

It's not necessary, his daily trip to town. Upon his departure to the mainland, Shouto’s father had left him meticulous instructions, complete access to their dojo, and a full staff to maintain the household and grounds. Meals were to be prepared for Shouto three times a day, served at his convenience, and anything he required could be delivered to him directly.

A week of this was all it took for Shouto to go stir crazy.

While he couldn't exactly dismiss the entire staff in a fit of mutiny (these people needed their jobs; Shouto won’t bring them into this ongoing cold war just to piss off Todoroki Enji), this morning escape is the least he could divert from his father’s set plan.

It's something small, simple, but it's something that is just his—and he doesn’t have many things to which he can say the same. He’ll take his victories where they come. Nobody ever runs the beach this early, and locals in town tend to leave Shouto to his own devices when they see him quietly eating his breakfast.

Or, at least, they had, up until today.

“What are you supposed to be, a Poké Ball?”

The scoff comes from over his shoulder, and Shouto wouldn't have bothered to turn and acknowledge it except for two things: how close the voice sounded and the fact that that particular barb about his hair wasn't original—but it _was_ unique to Shouto as far as he could tell.

With a sigh, Shouto lowers the roll he’d been about to take a bite of and peers over his shoulder and up.

Two sets of startlingly red eyes stare back at him.

One pair belongs to a boy—a trainer who looks to be about Shouto’s age, with eyes narrowed pointedly somewhere above Shouto’s forehead. This rude person, whoever he is, has the spikiest head of blond hair Shouto has ever seen.

The bright eyes and wild hair shouldn't be complimentary (though Shouto himself has no leg to stand on when it came to strange hair and eyes), but Shouto finds himself absently noting that this stranger—for he isn’t from the Seafoam Islands, not with that outfit and not with that Pokémon—is rather good looking.

Shame the attractiveness appears to be counteracted by his personality.

The matching pair of eyes, though—large, intelligent, and currently trained on the Vulpix in Shouto’s lap—belongs to a particularly small Umbreon, perched high on its trainer’s shoulder. The sleek black of its coat gleams in the morning sun as it stares unblinkingly down at them.

“Excuse me?” Shouto finally replies, for lack of a better response, shifting his gaze back to the trainer.

“Your _hair_ ,” the stranger informs, crossing his arms and looking down on him like Shouto had offended him in some way.

He hasn't, not that Shouto can recall—and he gets the sense that this boy is one to leave a memorable impression.

“Did you actually dye it that way or somethin’?” The Umbreon on his shoulder tips its head lazily in time with the question, but doesn’t divert its stare from Vulpix.

Shouto blinks slowly at the trainer, then sighs once more before turning back to the ocean and his breakfast.

“Oi!” the boy exclaims, and his footsteps clatter closer on the loose panels of the seawall, followed by a _thump_ and the padding of tiny paws. “Don't just ignore someone who’s talking to you—didn't anyone ever teach you manners, half-n-half?”

Shouto snorts lightly and takes another bite of his meal. “That one’s new, I'll admit.”

The Umbreon circles him—or his Vulpix, more likely, from the staring contest they appear to be having. Vulpix’s hackles raise ever slightly against Shouto’s palm, but not even a growl escapes the small fox Pokémon.

“And talkin’ with your mouth full, too,” the stranger grunts, coming up on his right and peering down at him. “But given that you _are_ a Poké Ball—you must know the quickest way to Cinnabar Gym, right?

Shouto rolls his eyes and swallows his last bite.

“No, I didn't dye it.” The stranger opens his mouth, but Shouto cuts him off. “And no, it's not bleached. Yes, I was taught manners, extensively,” he continues, voice bland, “but they don't apply to strangers who insult people’s hair without even introducing themselves first.” He climbs to his feet and turns away without waiting for a response, Vulpix trailing at his heels.

There’s a long moment, before—

“It's Bakugou,” the stranger calls after him, once Shouto is some strides away.

He pauses at the edge of the wall, half turning back to glance at the blond.

“Bakugou,” he acknowledges. “You’ll want to head back that way, through town. Follow the cliff walk.” Shouto gestures in the direction _opposite_ his Gym before turning away and stepping off the five foot drop to the beach.

He jogs back to his Gym, Vulpix keeping pace at his side.

 

—

 

By the time Shouto gets back at ten minutes to eight, a green haired trainer from Johto and his Chikorita are already waiting outside the locker doors of the Cinnabar Gym.

Bakugou and his Umbreon arrive just in time to witness Midoriya Izuku stubbornly strong-arm his way into a win against the second of Shouto’s trainers, Shouto watching with arms crossed at the sideline. Red in the face as realization hits him, and with hands clenching into fists, the glower Bakugou sends his way is the most scathing Shouto has ever had directed at him from someone _other_ than his father.

 

—

 

The thing that most people who know of the Todoroki legacy don’t realize is this: while Shouto had taken over the Gym in his father’s stead, there is no part of him that enjoys it. But ever since the previous Pokémon Champion, All Might, had disappeared and Endeavor had rushed to the Indigo Plateau to take his place, Shouto had remained on the Islands.

He remained, and he reigned undefeated.

Shouto knows that word must have reached the mainland in the months since he’d taken over, about the way he ran the Gym. He knows that rumors would have spread.

That the home of the Volcano Badge—steadfast, ruthless, and fire-dominant—has a Gym Leader that refuses to use fire Pokémon. That he, in fact, has an affinity for the opposite.

_Ice._

And the rumors were true.

 

—

 

It doesn’t take Shouto long to realize that he’d underestimated Midoriya. It takes him even less time to understand what a mistake that was. More than that, the boy won’t stop _talking_ , won’t stop asking him questions, challenging his methods, demanding to understand _why_ Shouto was rejecting his Pokémon’s fire.

Their battle is a deadlock _._ Alarmingly so.

Midoriya’s Pokémon knuckle their way through his, knocking out first Glaceon, then Gyarados. Shouto's Charmeleon never cooperates when Shouto refuses to let it use its fire, so Lapras, sent out in its stead, and is next to succumb.

They don’t fall without a fight, though, and Midoriya is down to his last Pokémon by the time Shouto sends out Arcanine.

The massive fire canine growls long and low as it’s released from the Poké Ball, shaking out it’s fur and lowering its stance. Of all his fire Pokémon, Arcanine had adapted the best to Shouto’s rejection offire.

“ _It’s your power, isn’t it?!_ ” Midoriya shouts.

He’s not sure who is more surprised when he breaks his own rule: Midoriya, Arcanine, or Shouto himself.

“Arcanine— _Fire Blast!_ ”

 

—

 

Midoriya’s Chikorita crumples to the ground in a faint and Shouto exhales a shuddery breath. Arcanine howls, triumphant, its fur ablaze with a heat that can be felt clear across the arena.

He had won, but Shouto’s hands shake long after Midoriya and his Pokémon are gone.

 

—

 

When Bakugou returns to Cinnabar Gym the next day, demanding his fight, demanding the same level of challenge he had given to Midoriya, Shouto does not feel like himself. The world has inexplicably been kicked off its axis, and there’s a cloud over his thoughts he can’t shake.

“Come at me with your full strength!” Bakugou shouts, facing off across the battlefield. A massive Houndoom stands at his shoulder, teeth bared, tail whipping. The look of intensity on their faces is the same. 

Shouto refuses to underestimate him the way he did Midoriya, he goes at him with all he has—but Shouto won’t break his rule twice.

He refuses to use fire, and one by one his Pokémon fall.

 

—

 

Shouto is familiar with anger; it’s the only emotion he can consistently expect from his own father. But Bakugou’s anger is different.

The boy is _incensed_ —Shouto can feel it from clear across the room. Bakugou calls his Gengar to return then stands rigid, muscles tense, as Shouto scoops up Vulpix, its body limp. It’s not the worst beating they’d taken in their lives, not by a long shot, but they had been thoroughly, completely bested. Shouto pulls out a Poké Ball and Vulpix is gone in a flash of light.

It’s only then the stomping starts.

He glances up, and Bakugou is quickly crossing the battlefield, Umbreon hot on his heels.

Bakugou hadn’t even needed to send out the small Pokémon to fight.

Shouto pulls the Volcano Badge from his pocket and hold it out wordlessly, the small red pin cold in his palm. He half expects Bakugou to snatch it from his hand, but the other boy merely stops an arms length away, fuming.

He glares at the crest, and then Shouto, with scorn.

“I’m not taking that,” he spits.

Shouto finally lifts his head and meets the other’s eye.

“What?”

“You heard me.” Bakugou pins him with his stare, hands clenching restlessly at his sides. “Until you fight me at full strength,” he declares, resolution and stubbornness clear by the jut of his jaw. “I don’t want it.”

“You…” Shouto’s disbelief is clear, the vivid emotion breaking through the haze he’s been living ever since his battle against Midoriya. “But you won—”

“I don’t _deserve it!_ ” Bakugou snaps, nearly a shout, and Shouto’s eyes widen at the tightness in his voice, the way he’s slightly trembling.

“ _Not like this_.”

 

—

 

Bakugou leaves the island that afternoon, or so Shouto hears from Midoriya. Midoriya, who bears no ill will from the loss. Midoriya, who, instead of taking the first ferry to the mainland, sticks around the whole next week, peppering Shouto with questions about the Islands, his Pokémon, his Gym.

Midoriya, who, Shouto learns that night over dinner, is Bakugou’s childhood best friend.

“Though I don’t know if Kacchan would call me that,” Midoriya grins bashfully, scrubbing a hand through the hair at the back of his head. He’s a lovely houseguest; he’d charmed Shouto’s siblings almost instantly, and Shouto gets the feeling, even that first afternoon, that Midoriya has made it his mission to befriend him.

“I don’t think he wants to call us rivals, either,” Midoriya laughs, “Though everybody else seems to. We started our journeys within a week of each other, back in Johto? And we’re both determined to be Champion—just like All Might!”

Shouto lets that sink in. Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki: opposites in every way, and neck in neck in their journey.

“If you’re both set on being Champion…” he wonders. “Then why would he have refused the badge?”

“Ah.” Midoriya’s cheerful demeanor fades to something more intent, more serious as he considers Shouto’s question. “I was a little surprised by that too, but then… if you know Kacchan, it makes sense.” The boy shakes his head, sending green curls flying, and then his smile returns. “He wouldn’t want me to speak for him, but I will say… I don’t think you’ve seen the last of him.”

 

—

 

Midoriya lingers until the weekend, but eventually his journey calls him back and he’s on his way again. Everything about the events of that week, from the moment Bakugou had first come across him at the seawall, had knocked Shouto off his axis.

He makes it one week before the restlessness that’s been creeping in his bones becomes unbearable. He informs his siblings of his decision, asking if they’d be willing to take over the Gym in his stead—and while he is a bit bewildered by their enthusiastic approval, he is not surprised. They had always wanted him to get off of the Islands, to take his own Pokémon journey.

The next morning Shouto catches the first ferry to the mainland.

Within a week he crosses paths with Midoriya outside of Vermillion City. The boy nearly falls into a stream in his surprise at seeing Shouto, but his recovery is admirable—by the end of their conversation Shouto has an invitation to join Midoriya and his two companions, Uraraka and Iida, on their journey for as long as their destinations align.

Shouto, who has no true destination bar one he’s not quite ready for, gratefully agrees.

 

—

 

In the time it takes for them to stumble across Bakugou, Shouto has earned two badges: the Thunder Badge from Vermillion, and the Cascade Badge from Cerulean.

They’ve finally made their way through the caves of Mt. Moon—Charmeleon and Uraraka’s Golbat guiding the way in the darkest tunnels—and into Pewter City. They decided it would be best to split up: Midoriya to make a video call to a Professor named Toshinori, Iida for groceries, and Uraraka to scope out the Gym.

Shouto’s task is to head to the Pokémon Center and stock up on more potions and revives. He makes it as far as the Center’s shop, pondering if he should pick up some antidotes as well, when he’s interrupted.

“Oh, fuck me,” a low voice growls from his left, breaking him from his thoughts, “You’ve gotta be joking. What are _you_ doing here?!”

Shouto turns and there, in an odd parallel to their first meeting, stands Bakugou Katsuki, his Umbreon perched on his shoulder.

He blinks, surprised but not displeased at seeing the other boy—despite how grumpy he appears at Shouto’s general being.

“Buying antidotes?” Shouto holds up the bottles in offer, and Bakugou rolls his eyes so hard it looks painful.

“Not _here_ , half-n-half, not like—did the sun fry your brain on that island?!” he scowls, crossing his arms. He’s still angry, and Shouto can’t blame him.

“No,” Shouto replies, nonplussed. “Did you just arrive as well?”

“ _No_.” Bakugou crosses his arms. “We just defeated Pewter Gym; leaving for Viridian as soon as they’re healed up.” He jerks his head in the direction of the healing station, where the rest of his Pokémon must be.

Shouto’s unsure why, but something in his chest warms at the way Bakugou refers to his Pokémon in the collective. _We_ , like a team. Shouto does the same.

“Oi,” Bakugou interjects then, when Shouto doesn’t reply fast enough. “And don’t go changing the subject—what are you doing in Pewter? You’re a _Gym Leader_ , in case you’ve forgotten. I was under the impression that was a full time gig, or do you half-ass that too?”

The barb is intended to hurt, and it does a little—though probably not for the reason Bakugou intends. His pride as a Gym Leader is irrelevant to Shouto.

His battle with Bakugou, however…

“I never did get to take a Pokémon journey before taking over the Gym,” Shouto explains, though that’s not nearly the half of it. “My siblings will do a fine job of it until my father returns.”

“Your father?” Bakugou repeats, sounding surprised. “Endeavor? He’s can’t be giving up as Champion already.”

Shouto can’t help it: he scoffs. “No.” He takes a breath to compose himself from the momentary flash of resentment that always comes with thinking of his old man, and looks back at Bakugou.

“But when I best him as Champion he’s going to need _something_ to occupy his time.”

 

—

 

The ensuing argument of _just-who-is-going-to-beat-who-to-becoming-Champion_ continues throughout Bakugou’s Pokémon being returned, takes a brief pause while Shouto pays for his supplies, then continues as they spill out of the Pokémon Center and into the street.

They bicker until Shouto’s friends find them, and Bakugou only sticks around long enough to throw a scoff and an insult Midoriya’s way before he and his Umbreon are gone once more.

Iida unleashes a barrage of questions; Uraraka comments how she's never seen Shouto _smirking_ like that—and what were they arguing about anyway?

Midoriya just looks at Shouto curiously, then smiles.

 

—

 

At the end of the week, when his companions depart for Lavender Town by air, Shouto says his temporary goodbyes and sets off on foot toward Viridian Forest.

 

—

 

Shouto doesn’t admit to anyone—and barely even to himself—that he’s looking for Bakugou in the forest. It’s highly possible the other trainer had already breezed his way through without stopping, but Shouto keeps an eye out regardless.

It pays off when he comes across a campsite—just a small collection of pots, a backpack, and a sleeping bag rolled out on the ground. To one side of the small clearing a Quilava sleeps, and as Shouto and Vulpix approach, a small Umbreon pops up from behind the Quilava’s back.

Umbreon lets out a small yip and vaults Quilava in a single bound, crashing into Vulpix with a tumble that sends both Pokémon rolling.

“ _C’mon!_ ” a voice exclaims from his other side, and Shouto tears his gaze away from the wrestling Pokémon to see Bakugou stride into the clearing, arms crossed. “Are you following me now, is that it? What?”

Shouto shakes his head dumbly; he hadn’t thought this plan through insofar as to _what_ he’d say to Bakugou when he found him again. _Hi, I’m still sorry about our battle, and by the way I really enjoy arguing with you?_ No way.

“Pure coincidence,” he says instead, offering a shrug, and Bakugou squints at him before exhaling all his breath in a huff.

“Would you two knock that out,” Bakugou grumbles to the Pokémon at their feet, “If I have two more mouths to feed I’d rather _not_ draw the attention of every Pokémon in the forest, _thanks_.”

“Two more mouths to feed?” Shouto parrots dumbly, and Bakugou gives him a look.

“If you keep asking stupid questions, you can fend for yourself.”

Shouto doesn’t stop asking questions, naturally. Bakugou feeds him anyway.

 

—

 

Neither of them comment on it (though Shouto is tempted at times, just to see how Bakugou would react) but from that day on they just… stick together. Through Viridian Forest, along Route 2, down to Viridian City. The longer they travel, the more Bakugou’s replies grow less terse, less jagged. He never quite lets his guard down around Shouto, but he’s not outright rebuffing him anymore either.

Shouto thinks it’s progress. Toward what, he isn’t sure, but progress nonetheless.

In Viridian City, Bakugou claims the first battle at the Gym, unsurprisingly. It’s the first time Shouto sees Quilava in action, and Shouto is speechless at the power of the fire Pokémon. He claims the Earth Badge in an explosive victory.

Shouto takes his turn the next day, Bakugou and Umbreon observing from the sideline. As he steps onto the battleground, Shouto feels something spark in his chest—the same feeling Midoriya had ignited in their first battle, all those weeks and months ago. In a last moment decision, Shouto moves his hand from Glaceon and selects a different Poké Ball from his belt.

He tosses it into the air and Charmeleon appears in a burst of brilliant light.

“Charmeleon,” Shouto says, meeting his Pokémon’s eye. “You know what to do.”

Charmeleon’s mouth parts in a grin, fangs bared; around it, a whirlwind of flame begins to spin.

Shouto claims the Earth Badge, but that’s not the biggest victory he feels that day.

 

—

 

Bakugou doesn’t mention Shouto’s battle.

Shouto isn’t sure if he’s glad for that or not.

 

—

 

The time comes for them to split up, of course. Bakugou has all eight badges that he needs to take on the Elite Four, and the Indigo Plateau is a place Shouto has no intention to follow him to—not yet. Shouto will continue south, on his own journey, and Bakugou will head west along Route 22 toward Victory Road.

“Give him hell for me, will you?” Shouto says to him, half in jest as they stand at a crossroad. But the look Bakugou levels him is intense.

“I would have, even if you hadn’t asked.”

The words surprise Shouto, and he finds himself staring before he shakes himself out of the stupor with a small smile. “Good.”

“What about you?” Bakugou asks him, looking off down the road.

“Hm?”

“Where will you go from here?”

“Oh.” Shouto blinks, then looks down to where Vulpix sits by his feet. “There's something I have to do,” he says, knowing how vague he sounds. “.…and I think I'm finally ready.”

 

—

 

Shouto boards the ship bound for Alola alone, wondering if it’s possible for his nerves to eat him alive.

 

—

 

“ _Seriously?_ ” comes a voice from behind him, drawing Shouto from the daze he’d entered while staring out across the open ocean.

Shouto turns his head to investigate its source, squinting against the glare of the sun. Bakugou Katsuki stands before him, hands on his hips as he stares Shouto down disapprovingly.

Shouto blinks at him, straightening from his slouch over the railing. “Bakugou,” he greets, struck dumb with surprise.

“Why are you _everywhere?!_ ” he exclaims, hands thrown up in exasperation.

“To be fair,” Shouto blinks at him, “you're the one who keeps showing up where I already am.”

He may be stunned, but snark runs on autopilot.

“I thought you were heading to the Indigo Plateau?”

“I was,” Bakugou informs, crossing his arms and looking away. “Got a better offer.”

The silence between them stretches until Bakugou cracks.

“Don't tell me _you_ were invited for the competition too.” The blond trainer scowls deeply, like he’s been offended.

“No,” Shouto replies placidly, used to Bakugou’s moods. He hadn't even known there was a competition being hosted on the island. “It's… vacation.”

Bakugou stares at him.

“…. _vacation_ ,” he repeats, unconvinced, and sidles up to Shouto at the railing. “People like us don't take vacations.”

At their feet, Bakugou’s Umbreon finally loses patience and bounds forward, drawing Vulpix into a play wrestle. The two trainers watch as they nip and roll across the deck.

Bakugou looked supremely disappointed in his companion.

“ _OI_ , traitor! Stop fraternizing with the enemy!” he abandons the railing and stomps toward them. Shouto can’t stifle the small chuckle that escapes him as he follows, watching the two Pokémon dart around Bakugou’s ankles, dodging his grabs in a roundabout game of tag.

(He pays it no conscious thought, but the vice around his heart lessens, just a bit.)

It takes the threat of Umbreon only eating the ship’s Pokémon food, and none of Bakugou’s cooking, to call the two Pokémon to heel.

Vulpix returns to him as Umbreon trots back to Bakugou, and the small fox-Pokémon flops down onto Shouto’sfeet in exhaustion.

Shouto shakes his head fondly, stooping low to scoop Vulpix into his arms. Vulpix snuggles in, huffing softly into the curve of his elbow.

A glance up reveals Bakugou holding his Umbreon under its forelegs, bringing them nose to nose as he mutters softly to the dark Pokémon. Umbreon yips in reply, scrambling its back legs until Bakugou relents and folds it into his chest, letting it climb up and perch on his shoulder.

Bakugou’s gaze flits up and catches Shouto’s. The soft expression on his face shutters into a scowl—but his eyes remain warm.

“What're you smiling at, half-n-half?”

Smiling…? It takes the callout for Shouto to realize that he is. He schools his expression.

“I'm not smiling.”

“ _Yes_ , you _were_ , asshole, you just—”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“ _Whatever_.” Bakugou reigns himself in with a huffed breath. “Are you coming?”

“What?”

“Are you fucking coming to eat with us or not?” Bakugou demands, already walking away. “Honestly, Todoroki, keep up.” 

 

—

 

With full bellies and two sleepy Pokémon sprawled in a single heap at their feet, Shouto and Bakugou stand elbow to elbow at the railing of the ship, the moon high above providing more than ample light to see by.

“There was a moment,” Bakugou says after an age of staring over the water, his voice quiet in the still of the hour. “At the end of our battle…you almost used fire, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Shouto admits after a long breath. It had been there on the tip of his tongue, and Vulpix had _known_ : the spark already heating in its throat, ready for Shouto to give the word…

“Then why didn't you?” Bakugou presses, intent, and a quick glance reveals how much effort Bakugou is putting into keeping his temper in check. Something in Shouto warms at the fact that he's trying.

“… My mother,” he says before he thinks twice. He swallows. “My mother’s affinity was ice. Did you know that?”

Bakugou shakes his head mutely, watching Shouto closely.

“Ah… Most people don't, even if they know of my father. She was probably the best at what she did—no one understood ice Pokémon like her…” He trails off, drifting in a memory.

Bakugou waits him out, and doesn't look away.

“You know how I got this?” Shouto says then, with a wave of his hand, and Bakugou blinks at the apparent non sequitur, then tenses when he realizes Shouto is gesturingat his scar. “My father… I think he played it off as a training accident; ‘caught the wrong side of a Pokémon's attack.’” He shakes his head. “It's stupid, how people believed that.”

Shouto is quiet then; for a long time the only sound between them is the slosh of the ocean against the side of the ship.

“It was my mother,” Shouto admits, staring out over the sea. “She poured boiling water on me when I was… five, I think. If that.”

Bakugou’s breath catches in his throat, but he forces himself to not react—to listen.

“I don't blame her for it—she wasn't seeing _me_ when she did it, and living in that house, with _him…_ ” Shouto bites the word with scorn, and Bakugou knows exactly who he means. “It did things to her. To her mind. So I don't blame her… but he did. I don't even know if he was concerned for my safety,” Shouto chuckles humorlessly and Bakugou’s fists clench in reaction.

“He was more ‘inconvenienced’ that this threw a wrench into his careful planning. So… he sent her away. And then _lied_ about it.”

He heaves a shuddering breath and looks up at the stars. Bakugou doesn't say anything, and Shouto didn't expect him to. But, after a long moment the boy steps closer; their bare shoulders press together, a spot of warms in the cooling night. He doesn't move away.

“I didn't see her for years, you know? My own mother.”

Something sleek and silky soft brushes against Shouto’s calf, and a glance down reveals Umbreon butting up against his leg and staring up at him with wide red eyes.

“So, the ice… you used it for your mother?” Bakugou asks finally. Shouto shrugs.

“It's more like…” he hesitates. “I didn't use fire because I didn't want to be like him.”

He looks over at Bakugou then, meeting his gaze head on.

“And for some reason, it's taken me all this time to realize… I'm not like him. And I never was.”

There's silence, again, but it's the comfortable kind.

Bakugou asks, “And now?”

“Now?” Shouto repeats, taking a breath; he presses his shoulder back into Bakugou’s. “Now, you should ask me for a rematch.”

In front of them, the lights of Alola twinkle into life on the horizon.

 

—

 

Bakugou doesn't invite him to his tournament, or even let on that he would want Shouto to come watch him battle—but he doesn't tell Shouto _not_ to watch, so Shouto sees that as good as an invitation.

(He tells himself he's not doing it to put off the reason _why_ he came to Alola, and it’s not completely a lie—

He’d never pass up the privilege it is to see Bakugou battle.)

Bakugou breezes through the preliminary rounds, only calling on Houndoom and Blaziken, but still coming out in one of the top seeds. He's drawing attention to himself, a clear favorite of the competition, and Shouto can't help but grin as Bakugou celebrates his final victory of the day, bellowing out a triumphant yell, arms raised high—his Blaziken following suit.

He smothers the smile down when Bakugou glances over at him in the stands, but Shouto thinks he sees it anyway.

 

—

 

“Oi, Icyhot,” a familiar voice calls out as Shouto is walking through the town center, and Shouto absently wonders at their ability to find each other, wherever they may be. Shouto turns and sees Bakugou and Umbreon lording over a shady spot under a tall palm tree.

“You look lost,” Bakugou informs. “Beach is that way.”

He jerks his head to indicate the opposite direction, but Shouto shakes his head as he approaches the two.

“No, I'm… just taking a walk,” he explains, lamely.

Bakugou is clearly skeptical from the way he raises one brow, but decides to say nothing.

It's Vulpix who initiates their Pokémon's tussle this time, bounding forward to catch Umbreon in a tackle that sends them both rolling across the grass.

“Idiots,” Bakugou snorts, but the words are fond. He stands, stretching as he does, then turns to Shouto. “Could use a walk. C’mon; they'll catch up.”

Shouto swallows but nods anyway, not willing to dissect the relief pooling in his anxious stomach at the offer.

They chat about Bakugou’s strategy for the coming rounds as they go, their Pokémon bounding around their ankles. Shouto reaches his destination eventually, and realizes that, while he wants to continue on past this place, it’s not for fear of what waits inside—it’s to prolong his time in Bakugou’s company.

But Shouto has waited years for this moment, and knows he shouldn’t wait any longer.

“Thank you, Bakugou,” Shouto says when their conversation reaches a natural lull, halting his steps at the entrance to a pathway leading up to a large white building. He smiles at the other boy. “I know I could have done it alone, but it would have been harder.”

This time, it’s Bakugou who blinks at him, at a loss and not understanding what Shouto’s getting at.

“I’ll find you later—okay?” he says, before Bakugou can speak the questions that are forming on his lips. “I’ll be alright from here.”

_Besides_ , Shouto thinks as turns away and walks up the path to the hospital, _Bakugou will be waiting when he’s done_.

 

—

 

Shouto and his mother talk for hours that first visit, smiling and crying and aching from the years that had passed. Eventually, when they are settled and dry-eyed, Shouto says, “I brought something for you.”

He reaches into his backpack and pulls out an Ultra Ball. His mother watches him curiously, patiently waiting for Shouto to explain which new friend he’d brought for her to meet, but Shouto says nothing.

He flicks his wrist and a bright light fills the room. When it fades, a Ninetails stands in its place, its coat the color of freshly fallen snow.

There’s a moment of stunned silence, and then his mother is laughing and crying at the same time, Ninetails letting out a delighted yip Shouto had never heard from the majestic animal. It rushes forward and nearly dwarfs the petite woman in it’s eagerness to greet its trainer after this long separation.

If Shouto starts crying once more, it’s fine—his mother is too busy pulling both him and Ninetails into a hug to notice.

 

—

 

He tells Bakugou all of this when they meet that evening; it hadn’t even occurred to him to hold anything back.

“You’re an idiot,” Bakugou informs him, jabbing him with an elbow, and Shouto takes it for what it is—a reprimand for making Bakugou worry about him. “I’m glad you went to see her.”

Shouto smiles and knocks their shoulders together in a movement that’s become familiar.

“Me too.”

 

—

 

Bakugou wins the tournament, and no one seems less surprised by this outcome than Bakugou himself. Logically, this should be when they start to plan their return trip to Kanto, but when Shouto puts voice to these thoughts, Bakugou just gives him an affronted look and declares that they’re not allowed to leave the island without hiking Mount Lanakila.

They set out the following morning, and it’s a half-day trek each way. They head up the mountain with backpacks full of supplies and Poké Balls, and head back down hours later with much the same plus one addition:

A small, snowy white Pokémon that trails them from a distance, following them all the way back to their rooms.

 

—

 

The gangway creaks as Shouto takes his first steps off the ship, the streets of Pallet Town waiting beyond. Vulpix runs ahead of him with Umbreon hot on its heels, while Shouto’s new companion, an Alolan Vulpix even smaller than Umbreon, lingers at his side.

“Get a move on, Icyhot, we’ve all got places to be,” Bakugou goads as he overtakes Shouto on the gangway.

At first Shouto just snorts at Bakugou’s demeanor, but then the words sink in and he frowns.

“I don’t,” he admits.

“Don’t what?” Bakugou asks absently, glancing back at him.

“Have anywhere to be. Going to Alola, making things right with my mother—bringing her Ninetails—that’s was my purpose when I left the islands. And now that I’ve done that…” he trails off, coming to a stop once his feet his dry land, mind working as he tries to figure out a next move. He could seek out his friends—Midoriya had made it more than clear he was always welcome. But then, he should also visit his siblings—or at least give them a call, to let them know that he’d seen their mother. Or maybe—

“I know a place,” Bakugou’s voice interrupts his thoughts, and Shouto glances at him curiously. “The young master barely left his island before this,” Bakugou smirks at him in a tease, but there’s something vulnerable in his eyes that keeps Shouto from rising to the bait like he normally would. “And there’s more to the world than Kanto, you know.”

Shouto stares at him, wonderingly. “What are you saying…?”

“Johto,” Bakugou replies, and he’s not looking at Shouto anymore; instead, he stares out across the water, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I’ve trekked halfway across your region and beyond with you—only fair you return the favor, don’t’cha think?”

“But what about the Indigo Plateau—“

“Shut up,” Bakugou interrupts his protest, and now his ears are red. “There’s time. If anything, I’ll just grow stronger for the waiting. And maybe then, you’ll have caught up.” He glances back at Shouto then, quickly, then away. “Just come with me.”

Shouto doesn’t have to think twice.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> _and then Bakugou takes him to his childhood home & todo sees pictures of bakugou with cyndaquil in his arms and piplup on his head & feels like he’s found a new home THE END _
> 
>  
> 
> me: hasn't watched or played Pokémon in probs a decade  
> me: feels a Mighty Need to write todobaku Pokémon fic
> 
>  
> 
> w/ special thx to kai - cheers to bonding not over Pokémon, or BNHA, but Kingdom Hearts. you are divine. (& thx for letting my join your KHUX party <3 )


End file.
